A New Kind of Pain
by life1428
Summary: Gale's whipping from his POV. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**I felt like writing this... So I did. I could have done better, I know. What Gale thinks during Catching Fire while he is being whipped.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy or any characters/ events in it.**

My wrists are bound in a matter of moments. Painfully tight, I might add. The rope is cutting my skin. He pushes me into a closet, and locks the door. I hear him shout some orders. A bunch of heavy footsteps pass the door. What has this dratted man got in store for me? And who the hell is this man?

I start counting time. I figure I've been in here about fifty seconds before I gather my wits. I count one hundred and thirty seconds until the door unlocks, and the man yanks me out of the closet and starts dragging me through his house, to where I think is the front.

"Who the hell are you? Where is Cray? What are you doing to me! You foul, Capitol loving, idiotic man! How dare you show up here, like you're the boss of Distric-" At this point the man stuffs a piece of cloth in my mouth, gagging me. I stare angrily at his back, glaring, wanting to yell insults at the top of my lungs. He finally gets to the front door, and harshly kicks it open. He yells at me to stand and walk, and I do, but rather reluctantly. I won't let him do whatever he's doing without putting up a fight. He walks to the center of town, me following in his wake. I see that a small, wooden post has been set up. My stomach lurches. This is clearly meant for me. And, clearly, it's a whipping post.

I consider running. I consider running for my life. But it's early morning, the sun is hardly rising. No one will open the door for me; let me in; stop me from facing this horrible fate. Only a few people are outside, and they are headed for the mines. Only one sees me, and he stops. He gathers those around him, and they get the people around them, who get their friends. In no time, a crowd has gathered. The man who is keeping me what I consider a hostage pushes me down next to the pole, rather forcefully, and rebinds my wrists, this time to the poll. He rips the gag out of my mouth, and tears my shirt off. He tosses my jacket aside. He yanks the turkey off my belt and nails it above my head, through its neck.

He speaks. "This man has been arrested for hunting, illegal trade, and for treason against the Capitol. He will plead guilty." I glare at the man again. But I follow what he says. I admit to all three of those crimes, gritting my teeth with every word that comes out of my throat. There is a fury within me that I have never known. The man continues. "He is sentenced," He pauses, observing the crowd, "with sixty lashes. To take place immediately." And with a whip that I hadn't noticed before, he raises his arm, a triumphant smile on his ugly face, he cracks it, and brings it down upon my bare back.

It hurts. It hurts like fire. I scream, my rage and the pain from that lash bursting out all at once. The man laughs cruelly, and raises the whip again, striking my back with the whip again, harder than the first, right down my spine. I scream again, the pain unbearable. Hot, burning, white fire; ripping my skin apart. On the third strike, I can feel a trickle of blood running down my back. On the fourth, white lights cross my eyes. "Katniss!" I scream, although I doubt anyone can understand what I'm saying. I'm glad she can't see me like this, screaming for mercy from a man that I could take down in a moment. Yet, I keep wishing she was here, sharing the pain, even if mentally. Wishing that she would help me out of this horrible predicament that I've landed myself so stupidly in. I stop counting the endless strikes against my body; I scream bloody Mary every time I feel a blow against my back, screaming in the brief brakes between lashes. Another lash is brought upon my back. It's slow torture. Saying it hurt like fire would be an understatment. I close my eyes.

I don't feel a searing pain hitting my back. Is he mocking me? Playing with me? I hate this man. I hear a voice. It's Darius.

"Back off the boy, he's only nineteen!"

"He's a man. He'll get over it." The voice I've learned to fear.

"That is Katniss Everdeen's cousin! Gale Hawthorne!"

"Serves him right, breaking the law, related to someone who is so admired by the country of Panem."

At this point, I think Darius punched him in the nose because I hear a grunt. Is this torture over? Nope. I open my eyes to see Darius being hit over the head with the butt of the whip, and shoved aside. He's knocked out cold. The man says, "You know this man?" The anger is clear in his voice. All I can do is nod. Wrong answer. He whips my back again, harder than before, shouting insults at me. He hits me with a passion. His whip just keeps geting harder, and wetter with my blood. It stings. I feel as if my back is falling apart. That I'm being skinned. I'm screaming for mercy. I yell with every ounce of strength I have left that'd I'd do anything. I tell him just to kil me; I want this to stop. After about ten more lashes, I whimper, "Catnip….please help me." The pain dies away, and I see black. I'm out cold. Relief at last.

**I edited this again. I don't know if this has been done before... Please review, it takes like three seconds.. It really makes my day, too. I've been watching the traffic. Some eighty something hits and six reviews. Doesn't really add up. **

**~May the odds be ever in your favor~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Decided to follow up… I can be so straightforward sometimes. Here's my second insight into Gale's mind. Trying to follow what happens in Catching Fire…. Only a bit different. R&R!**

**Note: all phrases with a * next to them are direct quotes from Catching Fire.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing by Suzanne Collins.**

Relief is temporary. Nightmares soon invade my mind; bringing the pain back with it. I suppose they are nightmares. Morbid hallucinations, perhaps.

The man, still nameless to me, is standing on my doorstep, a squad of Peacekeepers behind him. Each is holding some form of torture weapon; whips, guns, flamethrowers, stones, and torches are a few examples. To make is worse, every one of them is laughing at me, jeering, booing. My family and friends are being restrained by a few of the members of the squad. The man is holding his whip, still dripping with my blood, raises it and brings it back down upon me. The images transform, and I am in the forest with Katniss, her back turned to me. I almost relax. I walk to her, and put my hand on her shoulder, only to see her kissing Peeta greedily. She turns around.

"After what I've been through, with this brave, handsome, kind boy here, do you really think that you will come up to scratch?" She says, laughing at me, the baker's son joining in cruelly. She starts kissing him again. Anger bubbles up in me. My dream self takes pulls a rock up from the ground, and flings it at Katniss. The pictures reform, and I'm in a church, dressed in black. Bewildered, I look around, and see a coffin. Katniss lays in it, her hair braided, wearing the dress she wore from her interview with Caesar Flickerman, dead. She rises, and points a rotting finger at me. "You killed me," she whispers, and falls back into the coffin. The man that had arrested me kicks me down, and the pain starts again. The images black out, and I am on the verge of consciousness.

I can feel the echoes of the whip on my back. It still hurts like hell, but now half as horrible as it did. I lose what little awareness of my surroundings that I had, and am left in what feels like a dreamless sleep.

. . .

Something is tightening around my rib cage. I must be regaining my senses. My back feels… better. Only a bit. But where am I? I must be inside; I can feel a fire nearby, and muffled footsteps, the kind only made by a floor. Someone is holding my hand, and is pressing it against her lips (supposing it is a woman). Her hands are hot, their heat warming my hand. The flesh is calloused, like she's been spent years dragging her fingers against a washboard…. This is my mother. The tightening around my ribs gets tighter, and I moan. I've had enough pain for one day; is there any way to escape from it?

My mother is whispering to me, words that I hardly catch. She strokes my hair, her hands shaking. I feel other eyes upon me. Who else is here? Seeing me this weak; this vulnerable? Soft voices fill the room.

"Get me some water."

Footsteps, then a tap running. More voices follow, with words I can't quite understand. An angry outburst follows. I know this voice.

"Just give the medicine to him! Give it to him! Who are you anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!"*

It's Katniss. Where is she? Why is she here? I open my eyes, and start trying to locate her. Blasted blurry vision! I need to see her. To find her. I move, trying to get off whatever I am laying on.

"Katniss!" I try to say. It sounds like something that a dying, wounded animal would make. My back aches again. I close my eyes, trying to escape this living nightmare. What have I done to deserve this? Get tortured, find horrors in a place that should be peaceful, and hear the sound of someone who is basically the other half of me, only to not be able to see her, make sure she's really here!

Someone else speaks. I hear two pairs of heavy footsteps walk over to where I presume Katniss is, and I think that they are taking her away. I try to speak, but the pain is too much. I hear her shouting horrible things at someone else in the room. Her mother. She's the one who's been tending to me. The pieces of the puzzle come together. And then, out of all the things I could be feeling, I get embarrassed. I'm half naked in front of who knows how many people, my back ripped to shreds, and the girl that I'm in love with has seen me weak and fragile and broken. Not to mention that she's the only one whose opinion matters to me. I'm pathetic. Everything about me right now is pathetic.

Mrs. Everdeen makes me drink something. An herbal concoction, no doubt. I taste something sweet. Sleep syrup? It knocks me out.

Not much later, I wake. Damn. The agony that I have evaded comes flooding back. I wince and grit my teeth, the most I can do without causing too much pain. The pain intensifies. I bite my tongue, trying not to whimper. The mere task of this makes me sweat. Someone knocks at the front door, although I hear it very distantly. More footfalls and more voices. I don't dare tune it out, trying to catch some of the words, some of the voices, and trying to figure out if any of them belong to Katniss or my mother. The door slams shut, and the people who were recently in the hall are now with me. I think I'm in the kitchen. A pinch in my arm, and I fall asleep within a minute.

…

I feel a warm breath, caressing my cheek. Half dead-to-the-world, half awake, I open my eyes, which are fighting whatever was injected into my arm. My eyes flutter. Once I gain control of myself and my vision, I see Katniss sitting on a stool next to me. I am in the kitchen.

"Hey Catnip,"* My words are slurred, but I think she can make them out.

"Hey Gale,"* I can see relief and happiness rush through her eyes. I smile inwardly.

"I thought you'd be gone by now… I… I'm sorry you had to see that. See me like this." The drugs are wearing me down. I fight for consciousness. I notice a mark against her cheek. A lash.

"Who did that to you?" I hope it isn't too loud; too angry.

"Thread."

"Who's he? The man that was whipping me?" I almost flinch when I mention it.

She nods. My anger flares. I open my mouth, some nasty things on my mind, but she puts her finger to my lips, quieting me.

She speaks. "It's nothing. I'm fine." When I try to protest to that, she pretends that she's going to leave. I don't want her to. She's the one person in which I can be myself with.

As if sensing my thoughts, she says, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble."*

I smile. "Me too," That's when the medicine takes me back to the prison that is my mind.

**I don't know if this is any good… Wow. I'm pathetic. I am considering putting in another few sentences about what happens when he wakes up next time. It might sum up the chapter, but I won't update this story again. I'm out of ideas; if you guys have any ideas, feel free to PM me or review with one. Thanks a ton for taking the time to read this!**

**~May the odds be ever in you favor~**


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